Frostbite
by TheyAre
Summary: The Dominion Military is taking a field trip to Braxis. Cadet Alex Tyris is approached by a red-haired woman before the trip sets off...


Frostbite  
  
A Blizzard Map of the Week Short Story  
  
October 1st, 2499  
  
The advent of the Powered Combat Suit for the common infantryman heralded a revolution in the making of war. For centuries soldiers have had to worry about rain, snow, wind, hostile atmospheres, and the cold hard vacuum of space. Any of these environments could make a soldier miserable and ineffective on the battlefield. Countless wars throughout history have been lost when the attacking army fell under the deep snowy blanket of a cold, cruel winter. How could men and women move with the strength sapped from their legs by the extreme cold? How could a weapon be fired if a trigger finger was numb from frostbite? The Powered Combat Suit has changed the face of modern warfare forever.  
  
"That, ladies and gentleman, is a load of bull." The voice of Colonel Jonathan Alter (ret.) reverberated throughout the classroom, a large projection of an area on Braxis simply known as "Frostbite" behind him. The room had a sloped floor, with students sitting on risers with tables in front, while the professor's area was flat. "The CMC-300 power suit has changed little about warfare. And do you know why? Because it is a perfect example of a bigger gun outdoing bigger armor. The C-12 Canister Rifle, the C-12 "Fury" chain gun, and now the C-14 "Impaler" gauss rifle all can punch through the CMC-300's armor with ease. On the battlefield, what keeps you alive is not your power suit or your gun. One month from now there will be another round of combat exercises-live ones. On Braxis. In "Frostbite." This will be the final test before live-fire training begins. Your class will go up against three others in a free for all. You will be given a set amount of minerals and gas, and a limit to how many casualties you can take before the mission is deemed a failure." Alter's voice hardened. "I do not accept failure, understood? You've all come this far, don't wash out now. We will review tactics and how to make decisions during the heat of battle for the next month. Dismissed." As the fifty-odd students began to file out silently (they'd learned what talking would cost them during their first day of class), a tall, thin man dressed in the pike gray CMC-100 scout power armor of Nova Squadron intelligence came into the classroom from a side door and walked up to Alter, waiting until the room was empty. "The number of xenomorph reports is getting higher on Braxis and elsewhere," he said softly. "As such, a battalion from Omega Squadron will accompany you to Braxis and protect the cadets."  
  
Alter's eyes narrowed. "Is there any danger?" Just what I need, some bureaucrat telling me there's "danger" on a faraway planet. Where does Nova Squadron dig up these guys.  
  
"No. Just a precaution."  
  
Alter nodded, then he turned as movement registered in his peripheral vision. "Tyris! What are you doing here!" He could feel his blood pressure spiking. Figures, he thought. Now I have to deal with that idiot, of all people. Sure, Tyris was a good enough student, but Alter knew the kind of person who would survive in the field. Alex Tyris was not one of those people. Best that kid can hope for is a desk job somewhere, or his CO will be sending his folks a message they'd rather not receive.  
  
The cadet stood, looking nervous. "Just picking up my books, Colonel," he said softly. "Well you've got 'em, now get out of here!" Alter roared, slamming a hand down onto the table beside him. The cadet nodded and fled the room, his footfalls echoing loudly as he ran down the hall. "How much did he hear?" the intelligence officer asked softly. "This could cause a panic if it gets out."  
  
"Probably all of it," Alter replied. "Don't worry, it'll make the whole thing seem even more tantalizing to the Cadets."  
  
"I hope you're right," the officer said. "I think we're going to be needing them in the coming days." He nodded and walked out of the room. Alter watched him go. Xenomorphs, huh? He thought. A brief smile lit up his face. All the more reason to go.  
  
* * *  
  
The main lounge in the Confederate Academy on Chau Sara was a dark, smoke- filled lair, where age didn't really matter as long as you were good at what you did and didn't make too much noise. Most of the "games" were the same type of war simulators used in classrooms, though a few pool tables dotted the center. One entire wall was occupied by a bar, and small lamps hanging from the ceiling feebly attempted to light the room. The lounge was about half-full; it was still early morning.  
  
Alex slid into the center and sidled up to the bar, ordering a beer and pulling a cigarette of the pack in his shirt pocket, lighting up and inhaling deeply. He let the smoke back out through his nose, watching it slowly make its way up to mix with the cloud hanging over everyone. He usually needed a cigarette (or several) to stay his nerves after a class with Alter. The old hawk knew what he was talking about, but his hardassed attitude made Alex wish he'd gotten Professor Taer. Now there was a senile old bastard. Alex remembered when he'd forgotten what his lesson was about and went on a diatribe against Scantid, Rhynadon, and how the indigenous species of the planets settled by humanity in the Sector were ruining life for everyone. That had been the talk of the Academy for a few days. When he'd been transferred to Alter's class, Alex had seen his chances for graduation with a perfect GPA crash and burn.  
  
The bartender stuck the beer in front of him, and he took a sip, grimacing. They always give the Cadets shit like this, he thought, putting the bottle back down on the repliwood surface. Chau Sara isn't exactly a sparse wasteland, he thought bitterly. Terra-forming had transformed at least part of the world into a farmer's paradise, and lush jungles had already covered most of the southern continent. They could at least put real wood in the bar. Throwing some coins to the bartender, he turned to watch the other occupants of the lounge. Most of the simulators were occupied, not that Alex particularly wanted to step into one and take command of a holographic squad, battalion, or entire army after what he'd heard pass between Colonel Alter and that intel officer. Xenomorphs-  
  
His train of thought was interrupted as a tall, statuesque woman with slightly longer than shoulder-length red hair entered the lounge. Who is she? He thought. To Alex's surprise and delight, she wove her way through the crowd, ignoring the appreciative looks she got from corner of the room, and sat down at the bar stool beside his. To his further amazement, she turned to him and said softly, "Alex Tyris, right?"  
  
"Yeah," he said, trying to stay calm. He knew all the jealous looks he was receiving and wanted to find out just who the hell this woman was before he tried anything. "And who might you be, Miss?" he asked, just as quietly. "Judging from the looks you got when you came in, you're new around. There are hundreds of pretty girls here at the Academy, and I daresay that I'd have heard some of my more. seedy classmates talk about you if you'd been here since the start of the term."  
  
She smiled as she settled down. As Alex's eyes tried to recover, the woman said, "my name's Sarah Kerrigan. I do hope you don't join your. seedy classmates in talking about the prettier girls around here, Tyris." He smiled. Smart, he thought. Real smart. Good looking, too. Where'd she come from? She nodded, though he hadn't said anything, confusing him for a moment. She continued, "I'm from Tarsonis. I work in the office of Edmund Duke. I came here to look over the Cadets on Chau Sara and suggest people to the Colonel who he might want to look into as prospective candidates for the Alpha Squadron Officer Corps. Program."  
  
Alpha Squadron? Officer? Alex's mind reeled, and he took a long hit on his almost-dead cigarette to calm him down. The feel of nicotine rushing through his veins had always comforted Alex somewhat, but here it didn't. Must be my friend here, he thought, glancing at Kerrigan. This brand is top- of-the-line. He killed it in an ashtray on the bar and lit another before saying, "And what do you think of me, Miss Kerrigan? Or is it Mrs.?"  
  
She smiled again, a bit shyly. "No, not a Mrs., yet," she said. "I don't have time to get out much." Alex realized he must have hit upon something Kerrigan was uncomfortable with and backed off. Every male who could hear her remark instantly straightened up a bit more and smiled, including Alex. He glanced around, smirking at the sight of the men with girlfriends stammering as their dates coldly asked them just what was so damned interesting over there. I wonder how many one night stands I killed tonight, he thought with a smirk. "Getting back to the point," Kerrigan said, drawing his attention back to her, "I think you have the grades, the skill, and most importantly the attitude to become an officer in Alpha Squadron. "Alex, have you ever heard anything about xenomorphs?"  
  
She said it so casually that a bell rang in Alex's head as soon as the question left her mouth. She's after something, he thought. Certainly more than just looking up prospective candidates for Alpha Squadron. "Xenomorphs?" he said, picking up his beer before putting it back down, trying to decide what to say. "I may have heard Colonel Alter say it once or twice during class, or to another professor in the hall. but that's it." He briefly thought about the conversation between Alter and that other man in the classroom, but turned his attention back to Kerrigan. Better to keep my hand as close to my chest as possible for now.  
  
She got up, her crimson tresses bouncing up and down, once. "Well, thanks, Alex," she said. "I think you'll be receiving a job offer from Colonel Duke sometime soon. See you around, Tyris." She began to make her way toward one of the many exits, and Alex watched her go, replaying the conversation over and over again in his head. What'd I do wrong? He thought. Finally, he decided that he hadn't been forceful enough, that he let her control the conversation, and then let her decide when it ended, as well. Oh well. But, damn, its not like a girl like her comes up to you every day and initiates the conversation.  
  
He heard a thud as someone sat down beside him, on the stool Kerrigan had so recently occupied. A high, nasal voice entered Alex's ears, and he winced as it squawked, "maybe next time, eh, Tyrie?" A voice like his breaks windows, he thought, before turning to face his tormentor.  
  
"Why don't you take a hint, nerd, and get out of here," Alex snarled. He stared at Urlor Yark, one of the more annoying cadets at the Academy. "The only way a girl like that'd talk to you was if you threw up all over her." Alex hated people like Yark; they acted so damned superior while not realizing that it took "people" skills to get along in life as well. That and the fact that the little worm followed him around everywhere made dealing with Yark a tiring chore that Alex had forced upon him far too often.  
  
"Maybe so," Urlor admitted, "But at least I wouldn't waste the opportunity, Tyris." He got up, laughing. That little weed, Alex thought angrily, clenching a hand into a fist before letting it drop to his side.  
  
Yark's laughter stopped as Alex's other fist stopped perhaps a millimeter or two from his nose. "I suggest you leave," Alex said loudly, fire in his eyes. "No one wants you in here anyway." Gulping, his thick glasses (Alex always wondered why he just didn't get his eyes repaired, or new eyes) pushed back, Urlor sneered and fled the room. Alex sat down again, and noticed something had dropped to the ground. He bent down to pick it up, saw it was a piece of paper. He unfolded it out of curiosity, and read its contents in amazement:  
  
That was a nice little talk, Alex. Your information on the xenomorphs was quite interesting, although your mind spoke more than your mouth. You're very smooth, Alex Tyris, and just a little bit cute. enough to be dangerous. Alex was puzzled at that last bit, but he wasn't about to argue with a woman as beautiful as Kerrigan calling him "cute." If you hear anything more about the xenomorphs, call this comm frequency. Or perhaps I'll call you. By the way, drop the alcohol. I don't mind smoking; a good cigarette is usually just what someone needs after a hard day, but women don't go for drinkers. See you later, cadet.  
  
-Kerrigan  
  
A string of numbers and dots, clearly a comm frequency, followed the message. Alex pocketed the note and made his way out of the lounge, feeling a bit wobbly from the beer and the smoke. Someone must have been smoking something pretty potent in there, he thought. He wondered how Kerrigan had managed to write that without him noticing while they were talking, and how she'd answered questions he'd raised about her in his mind-but hadn't spoken-during their conversation. Maybe she's a Ghost, he though for a moment before tossing that idea away. He'd never seen nor heard of a female Ghost agent-just male. He took a long, reassuring hit on his cigarette and tossed it into an ashtray as he walked out. Got her comm freq the first time I ever saw her, he thought. I wonder what Urlor would think if he saw this note now, the little bastard. Alex shrugged. He decided it was time to find out as much as he could about these "xenomorphs."  
  
* * *  
  
All of the news agencies Alex checked, whether local, planet, or Sector- wide, had nothing in them about xenomorphs. There were many reports about sightings of dog-sized insect creatures on many of the outer worlds, but they were dismissed as a hoax being spread by someone, especially after reports came out that the creatures were violent and attacked anyone who got too close. The articles hinted that the Sons of Korhal might be behind the "false" sightings, another futile attempt by Arcturus Mengsk to spread chaos throughout the Outer Rim.  
  
As the classes intensified over the next month, Alex found himself being reprimanded by Alter many times, as did the rest of the class. Alex knew he was at the top of his class, maybe second behind that idiot Yark. but he was getting tired of it. And here he was, being called to the Colonel's office for yet another grilling, most likely. Maybe I'll tell him what I think of him, Alex thought. Maybe you shouldn't have gone back to the bar after class, a little voice inside his head made itself known. Yeah, you're right, Alex thought, but what can I do about that now? Nothing.  
  
He opened the door to Alter's office, nodding rather drunkenly to the Colonel's secretary as he went by. She gave him a kind of warning smile, one that said I wouldn't go in there if I were you. Alex ignored it. He opened an inner door and entered Alter's interior office, saluting to the Colonel and taking a seat before the Colonel could return the gesture. Alter's eyebrow shot up, but he said nothing. The Colonel got out of his chair and began to pace, before finally saying, "you've taken quite an interest in xenomorphs, haven't you, Mr. Tyris?" Alter glanced around the office first, trying to cut through the fog that had descended upon his brain. It was a Spartan place, to be sure: just a desk, a few chairs and Alter's commission to the Marine Corps.  
  
"Xenomorphs?" Alex said. "Like what you and that intel officer-" a fierce glare from Alter shut Alex up, and he said, "yes, sir, I suppose I have."  
  
"You've also taken an interest in one Sarah Kerrigan, haven't you?"  
  
"Sarah?" Now Alex was confused, and the alcohol coursing through his system wasn't helping. "What about her?"  
  
"She met you two weeks ago, initiated conversation, and gave you a comm frequency, didn't she? She wanted on information on these xenomorphs."  
  
"S-she told me she was part of Colonel Duke's staff, sir," Alex stammered. "Said the Colonel wanted to know everything he could about these xenomorphs. I believed her."  
  
"Did you believe her, or did you believe her chest, Cadet?" Alter snapped, his voice becoming as cold as vacuum in an instant. "Nova Squadron has been following Ms. Kerrigan for quite some time. Would it surprise you to know she's second-in-command of the Sons of Korhal, and an escapee from the Confederate Ghost Program?"  
  
"What?" Alex rocked the chair back onto two legs. This was news. He twisted his face into what he hoped was an expression of surprise; he had had suspicions that Kerrigan was a Ghost, but this wasn't the time to reveal that to anyone.  
  
"Ms. Kerrigan has used her exceptional mind, and her more than exceptional body, quite a few times to embarrass the Confederacy of Man. You are to give me the comm frequency she gave you, or I will see you expelled from this Academy and arrested on charges of treason, understood?"  
  
Alex was in full retreat. "Yes, sir," he said quickly. He still had the piece of paper that Kerrigan had slipped to him at the bar; he kept it on his body at all times. He handed the paper to Alter, who looked at for a moment before locking it in a desk drawer. "Don't be afraid, Cadet," he said. "You did the right thing for your country. Kerrigan has tricked men far older, wiser, and generally better than you. Don't feel bad about it. Dismissed." Alex shot up, saluted, and fled the room.  
  
Later, in his dorm room, he sent a message to Kerrigan. He knew the frequency was being monitored now, but he didn't care. Sorry, he wrote. They found this frequency. Are you really with the Sons of Korhal? If you are, please don't contact me anymore. You're cute, Kerrigan, real cute. More than cute. But you're also far more dangerous than I could ever be. Goodbye.  
  
Later, he received a reply, this time from a different frequency. I'm sorry to hear that, Alex, it said. Yes, I'm with the Sons of Korhal. Maybe someday I'll show you what your good Confederacy has done to people like me, and to ordinary people who never hurt them in any way, or had ever dreamed of doing so.  
  
Just remember, Tyris, you're cute.  
  
Just a little.  
  
Alter raged at him for an hour in his office for that little exchange, but Alex managed to convince him he was just trying to break off the contact. Alter bought it, and Dropships of the 192nd Chau Squadron soon carried Alex's class and three others to Braxis, with Alex on board.  
  
Kerrigan watched the craft take off, their engines blasting out gouts of red flame, and admitted she'd mishandled Tyris. He could have become a valuable source of information. Maybe I'll see him again somewhere, she thought. After all, he was cute. Just a little.  
  
* * *  
  
October 19, 2499  
  
Kurt Chill hated Braxis. His last named caused for no end of jokes about how he had ended up on the frozen planet, and he had to admit being a Marine sucked pretty much wherever you were posted. Long periods of boredom punctuated by flashes of mind-rending terror, everyone assuming you'd been brain-panned by the government... But at least on most other worlds, the average temperature was a bit higher -15 degrees Centigrade. And then those bastards down in Boralis send us out on freeze patrols to see how long our power suits stand up in this wasteland.  
  
The area outside Boralis certainly was a wasteland. There was nothing but frozen steppe for hundreds of kilometers around, with stands of trees, frozen streams, and rocky outcroppings breaking up the flatness. All in all, it was a beautiful place, untouched by the hand of Man. But after living there for years, trudging through the snow day after day, you'd rather be assigned to the garrison on Char rather than this hell frozen over. Char was no vacation spot. eruptions of gas under the surface called "flashblasts" were just one of several hundred imaginative and painful ways you could die on Char thanks to the environment.  
  
The other men in Chill's squad, of the 31st Indigenous Company of Braxis, didn't help. Price was an idiot, Johnson a nerd, and Gordon was an idiot and a nerd. The only one out of them who Chill could stand to talk to half the time was the battalion commander, Captain Irving Morrell, a man who had actually been through war, like Chill. He'd figured out, with help from Morrell, that they'd only been a kilometer apart in the front line on Moria during the Guild Wars, but they'd never met each other before being assigned to Braxis. Both of them had been barely 17 when the war between the Combine and the Confederacy broke out; both were now 31, and in better shape than many of their younger counterparts. Chill blamed that on general laziness, Morrell on the CMC-300 power suit.  
  
The squad tramped through the wilderness, well over a dozen kilometers from Boralis. Chill had no idea why they had to these damn patrols, its not like anything was out here-  
  
"There's something over there," Morrell said, snapping Chill out of his reverie and contradicting him all in the same sentence, inadvertently. Chill looked, and there was something moving in a small copse of trees just ahead. "Fan out," Morrell said softly. "Clips chambered, safeties off." They began to advance slowly; even if it was just an Ursadon. Ursadon were nothing to mess with unless you had a power suit and a high-powered rifle. Snow began to fall, lightly at first, until a thick cloud of it filled the air. Chill had noticed the sky darkening hours ago and had argued with Morrell that they shouldn't go out on patrol, and then with General Armstrong, head of the division. Both had disagreed. If that Ursadon isn't friendly, someone's gonna die out here, Chill thought. Damn paper-pushers.  
  
"What the hell-" "That's not an Ursadon!" yells began to emanate from the milky-white cloud. Chill readied his C-12 "Fury" chain gun and began yelling "everyone calm down! What the fuck is going on out there!" his voice was joined by Morrell, but it was drowned out by the sound of chain gun fire.  
  
"Everyone down!" Morrell screamed, throwing himself to the ground. The sound of the chain gun fire cut off abruptly, followed by a wet scream from Price, it sounded like, or maybe Gordon, and the sound of ripping and tearing. He could dimly see two forms in the darkness, through the snow. They appeared to be struggling with each other.  
  
"Jesus Christ! What's going on out there!" Chill flicked on infrared, and it became all to clear. A large, dark brown insect the size of a dog was ripping Price apart. It had smashed through the Marine's power suit like it was an eggshell and was tearing into Price's chest and stomach. The ground around Price was dark, and several strips of flesh burning a bright red in the infrared were on the ground. Chill knew what was staining the snow, and it unnerved him.  
  
"Shit!" he yelled, bringing his chain gun to bear on the little beast and opening fire. Bright flashes of light tore from the muzzle of his gun and slammed into the dog-thing, the force of the blows slamming it to the snow- covered ground. The creature let out a scream of rage, a high, keening wail that sent a shiver down Chill's spine. He could hear the chainsaw sound of another gun opening up to the side, and the creature's cry this time was of pain, its eyes a fiery crimson that Chill thought would not have changed whether he looked at them in the infrared or not. Blood spurted from dozens of wounds in its chitin, and Chill realized that there were no smooth spots on this creature. All was sharp and jagged, even the edges of its claws and teeth were serrated.  
  
Price's body fell, a bubbling cry emanating from its ruined throat as it crashed into the ground. Chill ignored it; they had to kill the thing before they could help him. Not that Price dying would particularly bother Chill; it was just that once the Marine was dead, that thing would turn its attention to another one of the Marines. Like myself.  
  
All those thoughts flew out of his head as Gordon yelled, "Christ, they're all around us."  
  
Chill turned, hearing the first alien's death cries behind him, and was greeted by at least a dozen of the things lurking through the curtain of snow, their heads bobbing up and down as they ran toward the knot of Marines. No, not ran, they almost. skipped, their bodies jerking oddly as they advanced.  
  
"Dammit," he muttered, injecting a stimpack, ignoring the pain that washed through his body. Almost instantly, he felt lighter on his feet, faster, stronger, and smarter. He watched through the curtain of snow as Gordon panicked and ran, his form quickly disappearing into the snow. Moments later a high-pitched scream echoed through the snow, and all was silent once again, save for the grunts and heavy breathing of the aliens.  
  
"Johnson, Captain, you still there?"  
  
"I'm still breathin'," Morrell said. "Don't know about Johnny-boy."  
  
"Still here," the other Marine replied.  
  
"Alright, here's the plan," Chill said, tacking on a moment later, "if the Captain approves. We find the biggest mass of the little buggers we can-" he stopped a moment to pick one off that had gotten too close, its ruined body falling to the ground with a wet splash moments later, riddled with holes-"throw some grenades, and then hightail it back to Boralis. Sound good?"  
  
"Sounds good," Morrell said. "Inject a stimpack or two, it'll keep you going. Let's do it. On three. One. Two. Three!"  
  
If the aliens had been able to understand the plan, they would have agreed it was quite adequate as well. Since they weren't able to understand it, all they heard were the commands from their faraway master, commands to kill the Terrans now, rip the bodies to shreds. To sacrifice these humans for the Overmind.  
  
They sprang forward, their screams filling the air. Chill saw his plan deteriorate in moments. "Run!" he yelled, turning and doing just that. He was joined by Johnson and Morrell moments later, and the aliens weren't far behind.  
  
Morrell and Chill looked at each other; they knew what they had to do. His gut twisted at the thought, but he slowed down a moment and stuck his chain gun out, tripping Johnson. The other Marine fell, yelling, and the dog- beasts were on him in moments. Morrell and Chill kept on running. They both understood that if they didn't slow the aliens somehow, none of them would make it back. Chill knew he'd tripped at least a dozen Marines in the Guild Wars, tripped them in various ways, so he could live another day, or even another hour.  
  
As he and Morrell looked back at Johnson's now-ruined body, Chill knew that didn't make it right. What did he know was that it was another eleven kilometers to Boralis. Even with Johnson holding the aliens up with his death, there was no guarantee any of them would get back alive.  
  
* * *  
  
December 2nd, 2499  
  
The atmosphere of Braxis buffeted the medium freighter Tauros as it screamed through the sky, its heat shield glowing a bright cherry-red. Inside the passenger lounge, Alex Tyris tried to hold in his lunch, wondering if the other three classes, who were coming down on separate ships, were having as much fun as he was. I knew we shouldn't have let Alter take the controls, he thought, clutching his stomach. He hasn't been a pilot since before the Guild Wars. at least Yark wasn't doing too well either; the other Cadet had spent the entire trip in the lav. That was a relief, and a source of humor for the other Cadets, which helped keep their minds off their own discomfort.  
  
They broke the miles-thick layer of clouds and into the middle of a blizzard. Alter proved he hadn't forgotten everything he'd once known about piloting craft, going in low and fast, the capital city Boralis a bare speck in a viewport before the Tauros was past and over the wilderness. Alex thought he saw something through the storm, a brief flash of light on the outskirts of Boralis, almost like a vehicle or building explosion-but the freighter moved too fast for him to make out anything.  
  
"What was that in Boralis?" someone called. "Looks like part of the city's on fire."  
  
Yark's whiny voice filled the passenger lounge; he'd returned from the bathroom moments ago. "Probably just some house fire that spread," he remarked. "Poor frozen idiots down there probably do anything to keep warm- " the Tauros lurched again, and Yark promptly threw up all over Valerie Mitchell, one of the prettier girls in Alex's class.  
  
"There you go, Yark," Alex yelled, and everyone started laughing, Valerie included. "Make the most of it."  
  
Yark tried to smile, but a kick from someone in the crowd caused his face to twist in pain. "Get out, geek!" someone else yelled. Yark got up and ran from the room, holding his ribs. Valerie left as well, heading for the bathroom, Alex supposed. He was too busy laughing to care.  
  
Alter appeared in the lounge minutes later, his face a deep beet-red. I should've figured, the roller coaster ride stopped, Alex thought, pulling out another Old Earth term from his history classes. Yark was behind him. "What's the meaning of this?" he roared. "Cadet 1st Class Yark here may be a "geek" or a "nerd" to you, but all of you Cadets need to realize that this isn't high school or college anymore!" Spittle flew across the room; Alex ducked to avoid it. "This is the Confederate Military Academy! Someday most of you will be kissing the asses of people like Yark, because they worked hard now while you were screwing, partying and worrying about how popular you were!" He stomped out of the lounge, heading back for the cockpit.  
  
The Tauros fell through the atmosphere of Braxis, a roaring curtain of fire appearing on its forward bow as its heat shield deployed. As the ship rattled and groaned under the strain, the cadets had no idea of what was awaiting them down on Braxis.  
  
* * *  
  
Epilogue  
  
Cadet Class Disappears on Braxis  
  
Special to the Djakel Times, December 3rd, 2499.  
  
By Jon Bendel  
  
The freighters Tauros, Tyria, Kellson, and Perch disappeared in a blizzard that enveloped Boralis, the capital of Braxis and much of the surrounding area yesterday. The storm lifted early this morning, leaving a devastated Boralis, and the four missing freighters, in its wake.  
  
This tragedy hits Chau Sara and Djakel itself especially hard; the four freighters were transporting students from the Confederate Military Academy at Djakel to exercises in an area of Braxis known as 'Frostbite.' Confederate authorities have quarantined the Braxis system until recovery operations by elements of Alpha and Omega Squadrons are complete. I managed to enter the system and land in Boralis before the quarantine was placed into effect. Why two of the fiercest fighting forces in the Sector are involved with this operation is not clear at the moment, but one marine, a Sergeant Kurt Chill, had this to say: "There's something out there in the wilderness. I saw it. It killed three of my squadmates. We stood no chance. Ask Captain Irving Morrell!" Chill has not returned any calls from the Djakel Times, and is presumed to be inside the Psychiatric Ward of the military hospital set up on Braxis mere hours ago, traumatized by what he saw out in the wilderness.  
  
More on this tragedy will be available in the evening edition of the Djakel Times. I'm Jon Bendel, reporting from Boralis. 


End file.
